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Walking in the mall this morning, I was enticed over to a kiosk by the offer of some free moisturizer. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a chair with some kind of gel under one eye, and a promise that if I used this product every day for a year it will be the equivalent of getting a "non-surgical face lift." The bags and wrinkles around my eyes would disappear, and I would look 10 years younger.

At the end, the salesperson showed me my face in the mirror. One eye looked the way it always does, and the other eye indeed had fewer wrinkles around it. (It also looked a little bit puffy.) She asked what I thought.

"It's interesting," I said, "but not really something I need." Then I told her, "My happiness really doesn't come from my face." It wasn't meant to be condescending, even though I'm afraid it sounded that way. It was just so obvious for me in that moment, faced with this opportunity to be younger, smoother, better, that the whole thing was irrelevant.

I wanted to say something more, something that would remind this woman that she, too, would be just as beautiful without her own makeup. But I didn't have the words, so I simply said thanks and walked away.

I keep thinking about that kiosk, though. The salesperson wanted to delight me, to offer me something that I'd be excited about, that would make me feel beautiful and confident, maybe even lucky.

What would have done that?

What would I do if I had a kiosk in the mall and full access to all those great passers-by?

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